Alf — Circa 1988
One of my pet peeves in life is that not enough people quote Alf. He’s one funny guy. That and the fact the Dad says I look a lot like him, especially when I hang my head out of the truck window. So I was eavesdropping on my dad’s conversation the other day (I don’t actually fit under the bed) and I was pretty disturbed by what he was saying. He was talking about going out with Mom to pull dogs a while back. This is something he doesn’t do very much any more, seems he’s always on the computer or some piece of noisy machinery these days. In their travels, they stopped at a county animal control some miles to the west of here to pull what dogs they could. He said they had done an agency transfer of about 8 dogs, all of whom had euthanasia tags on their doors (means they’re fixin’ to have a real bad day) but had to step over several bags of dead dogs just to get to them. Then they were told they had to wait a bit before they could load up because the loading dock was being used. They went out back and waited for the men to finish loading the truck. The cargo was suspended over the truck in a big wire crate about the size of a pickup bed and they were dumping out bag after bag of dead dogs to bring to the local landfill. Dad said he returned home a bit more zealous and committed than when he’d left out, says he’s been out and about and knows that what’s out there isn’t pretty but if you don’t experience it every day you tend to suppress it. He says it’s just one day in one town in a great big state in a big old country in an even bigger world. I guess that’s why Mom always seems to act like someone’s just lit a fire under her all the time, that’s just another day for her.
For my part, all I can say is OMG! I had no idea! I’ve always wondered why we had all these other dogs here when they already have me. I guess I’m a little spoiled, I’m daddy’s little princess but, just like you humans, I’m never quite satisfied with things the way they are. The other day I had a fit because I had to go into my kennel and I had to trash my brand new kiddie pool (why do they call them kiddie pools if they’re for dogs anyway?). I was so upset that even that didn’t help much but I guess that my problems don’t even begin to compare. I honestly had no idea that other dogs endured such misery and such ignominious fates. I figured I was safe so what’s the all the fuss about?
Over the last year, dad’s been doing a lot of work on the sanctuary and even though he almost always lets me come out to supervise him, he’s been spending a lot of time on the tractor tearing and digging things up. He’s taught me and Lil how to hang out at a safe distance but honestly, I’m terrified of the thing and when he drags around that big blue thing with all of the sharp wheels that dig up the dirt, I find it to be a harrowing experience. Now I finally understand what all of the commotion is about. In the last year, the sanctuary has been transformed from impenetrable jungle to a very pleasant, shady area that houses around 35-40 dogs in large enclosures where the dogs run around and play with each other or dig holes and play in the water. I think I’ve come to understand that, if these dogs didn’t have this sanctuary, they’d have ended up just like those being unceremoniously dumped into the truck like so much trash. I’m chewing my foot just thinking about it. Oh wait, no It’s just a flea.
The dogs in the sanctuary (did I mention that it’s named “REDDAWGS” after me, Lil and Dougie?) are there because no one else wants them. They have a pretty decent life, certainly better than the other fate that almost claimed them but it’s not as good as a real home with a real family. Almost everybody comes to the shelter looking for a puppy or one of the other “special” dogs like the Poodles, Schnoodles, Shephards and Dobies. They usually have a home within days. The plain Jane’s are not as lucky. Old Bubba the Walker who looks like he’s got a gob of dip in his lower lip has never been fortunate enough to find someone willing to give him a real home even though he’d be more than willing to warm their front stoop.
I’ve been hearing dad say that with one more enclosure to go, phase one is almost complete which I took to mean that he was almost done with that smelly old tractor and we could move on to bigger and better smelling things. I guess I didn’t know what “phase one” meant. I’ve seen him lately looking into the woods past the clearing and am beginning to strongly suspect that he’s nowhere near done. Had I not have been listening in on his conversation, I’d have probably had to chew up another doggie pool but now I understand. Sometimes late at night, I lay there thinking that I could have just as easily ended up in one of those bags before my life had hardly begun and I have to go out onto the back porch and bark until all of the other dogs start barking just to reassure myself that they’re still all right.
If you happen to find yourself, one of these fine spring days, out in our neck of the woods, stop in to visit. The shelter is open every day from 2-6 PM and our staff would be happy to take you for a tour of the new sanctuary. You might just wind up falling in love with a good ole boy hound who’d be more than happy to share his dip with you. When and if you do though, please take a moment to reflect on all of those poor dogs in the trash bags. Bet they would have loved it here.
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